I fucking hate a lot of things, but coming in at number one, with a bullet: fat people. I can really hate them for a laundry list of reasons, but I am pretty sure that I would hate them even if I had no specific reason to do so, other than the fact that they were fat.

I’m not talking about overweight people, or big boned, or natural or whatever the fuck is the PC term for fat but not disgusting. I’m talking about the fat assholes who shop and Wal-Mart, because they can’t find a faux-leopard skin spaghetti strapped belly shirt in quadruple-X size anywhere else, or some lame faux-ironic T shirt with a normal, on any, regular sized shirt, small faux-witty saying from something topical from the Internet, but since it’s a on fucking sail sized piece of fabric, the letters are stretched out over a glorious rack of man tits, so elongated and wide, just as you would picture how the words would be printed over their heads in a word bubble if life was a comic book. I’m talking about these people. The ones that would be a waste of a regular sized person’s space. And, since they are so goddamn huge, they are wasting the space of three or even four people, and one of those people, smothered, trapped, and suffocated under some hard to reach, harder to clean roll of flab and sweat and grime and grease, one of those people must be productive, and what do they have to show for it? Constant shade and a rash?

I’m talking about the people you see, the ones that you can’t help but look at, out of the side of your eye, while you absently paw at whomever you are with, and hope they see it too so you can all have a laugh and go and buy sexy clothes. The people that are so fat it seems like they are trying to get away from themselves, in slow moving glaciers of mashed potatoes and microwave sausage, wrapped all up in skin so tight and thin and smooth it’s like some kind of organic (not green organic but homegrown) - but not vegan  - condom.

I am talking about the ones that work up a sweat riding a scooter around, lest they put some strain on their body to bear the beast they have become, and the scooter creaks and groans and flexes somehow bending but not breaking and getting these disgusting pigs from Burger King to Taco Bell to whatever place in the mall’s food court has the ‘good desserts’. Oh but don’t forget the Diet Coke. It just tastes better.

Just think of how sad your life has become if a major turning point in it is finding you have the will power to make that painful, life changing switch, from Coke to Diet Coke, and buying the healthy frozen dinners, the ones with the oh so small portions but I guess I can eat two or three right it’s healthy flash frozen Salisbury steak with mushroom gravy and mashed potatoes and some bullshit two bite cranberry cobbler. The nerve of those fuckers at the food company. Where the goddamn flying fuck are the chocolate covered apples fuck this cranberries. CRANBERRIES. Oh, look the same company also makes chocolate bars. More healthy food for me, thanks! Thank the Lord Almighty that my fat husband bought a shelf for the microwave that’s low enough that I don’t even have to get up from my scooter to make some food, and lo and behold! It’s within reach of the toilet. Thank God this trailer is so quaint.